Conner lay stiffly on the edge of the mattress, staring at the flickering TV screen with a glare that could burn a hole through it. His usual scowl was present, but now it was paired with a palpable sense of discomfort. The cramped, dimly lit motel room was about as far from ideal as possible. The bed, too small for two people, barely fit him, let alone you with him.

He shot a quick, irritated glance to his side, where you—his least favorite person on the team—sat practically glued to him. The heat was non-existent, and the thin blanket they had pulled over themselves only provided the most minimal comfort. Conner’s body tensed every time the blanket shifted or his limbs got too tangled in yours. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this much like a human heater.

Of course, this situation—this mission—had to be the one where everything went wrong. A busted motel heater, no choice but to stay close for warmth, and now, stuck with you. His lips pressed into a tight line, frustration mounting. Every bone in his body screamed to escape the intimacy of the situation, but the reality was clear: if he moved, he'd freeze uncomfortably all night.

He tried not to think about how your arm was now draped across his chest, how his was wrapped around your waist or the way your head had subconsciously found its way against his shoulder. He wasn’t the cuddling type, not by a long shot, and he knew you felt the same way—he could practically feel the tension in the way you tried not to touch him too much. You both hated each other.

But here they were. Stuck in this nightmare of awkward proximity, huddled together in the dark. As much as he hated to admit it, this was one time where he couldn’t just push through with brute strength. He had to complete the mission. Even if that meant... sharing body heat with someone he couldn’t stand.

"I’m not doing this again," Conner grumbled, his voice low, but his eyes flicking to the screen. "Next mission, we find a real hotel."